


Things We Lost Along the Way

by aubergine_despot



Category: Leverage, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Jake and Eliot are twins, May or may not be internally consistent, Prompt Fic, but not ALL angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24736162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubergine_despot/pseuds/aubergine_despot
Summary: Before Eliot had his brothers-in-arms, he had his brother. // It was easier being a secret genius back when Jake had someone who knew his secret.A collection of short-to-very-short fics, mostly prompt-based, exploring the idea of Jake and Eliot as twins. Largely set pre-canon.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

** Motion **

_set during The Librarians 301 - "And the Rise of Chaos"_

Jake’s a brawler. He’s comfortable with that — the give and take of the fight, bursting with the wild kinetic energy that’s both heritage and birthright. That’s what Pop taught him — pull ‘em in close and knock ‘em down hard. And Jake spends so much of his day-to-day up in his head that it’s a kind of relief not to plan his moves in advance, to just let his body react to the attacks as they come.

But Baird wants him to learn how to fight smarter, and Jake knows it seems incongruous, that a guy with more degrees than pairs of shoes should resist learn-smarter anything. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He’s man enough to admit that Baird’s better than him in a fight, and he knows it’s downright churlish, the way he’s pushing back when she’s being good enough to teach him.

He trusts Baird — trusts all of them, and isn’t _that_ something — but he’s not ready to explain why something deep inside of him can’t bear the idea of learning to fight “properly.” Maybe he’ll tell them, someday. Maybe he won’t. Maybe when he can say it without choking on the words. Another reason he’s angry; that despite his brother being gone longer than he was ever there, it hurts like that _still_.

‘Cause Jacob doesn’t need a mirror to know what he looks like when he tries the punches tight and controlled like she asks. That’s how Eliot fought, darting efficiency and a tight control over the violence that simmers in all the men in his family, that sometimes threatened to boil over in Eliot until he learned to keep a lid on it. To bleed it off in careful releases of pressure.

Jake gets it more now, how Eliot could leave and not come back, but the hurt is too old and deep to heal so soon. If Jake fights like Colonel Baird, then he fights like Eliot, and Jake hasn’t forgiven Eliot enough to be ready to face that one, yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Young**

Eliot doesn’t regret leaving, not really. Staying in that small town would have killed him more surely than any of the very many, very dangerous people who have tried to since. He doesn’t even regret how he left things with his father — he can wish it had gone differently, sure, but Isaac Stone is as stubborn a bastard as there ever was and regrets are for times when you could have made a different choice.

What Eliot will never forgive his 18-year-old idiot self for is how he took all his hurt and flung it in Jake’s face, blaming him for staying when they both knew Eliot was headed someplace Jake couldn’t — shouldn’t — follow.

**Last**

“Dammit, Jake, I thought you were smarter than this. Guess if you pretend to be dumb long enough, it sticks.”

“Have fun killing people, Eliot.”

**Wrong**

Eliot does end up killing people, but it’s not much fun.


	3. They Are Baby, Your Honour

**King**

  
On a rainy Sunday afternoon, Grandpop teaches them both how to play chess. Eliot assumes Jacob will be better at it, on account of how it’s kind of a nerdy thing and even at eight he knows that he’s not dumb but Jake’s the genius in the family — a real one, Eliot’s pretty sure. But Eliot has a knack for the strategy and manoeuvring of it, and it takes Jake three trips to the library and half a dozen books before he finally learns enough to hold his own.

**Blur**

  
Jake writes a paper about how his hero is their dog, and Eliot laughs because Jake’s always doing dumb stuff like that to throw teachers off his scent. He doesn’t expect the hurt look Jake shoots him, like he expected more of Eliot.

Later, watching his brother bound off across the field after a baseball, grinning like a fool, Eliot has to admit that actually, he can see it.

**Bother**

“Hey, Jake.”

...

“Hey, Jake.”

...

“HEY JAKE.”

...

“Jacob.”

...

“ _Jakey_.”

...

“Jake Jake Jake Jake Jake Jake Jake.”

...

“JAY!”

“Oh my god _what_ , Eliot? I’m trying to _read_.”

The pillow hits him full-face when he turns to glare at his brother.

And, well. Jake wants to finish his chapter. But also, Eliot _clearly_ needs to be taught a lesson.

Eliot lets out a very satisfying yelp as Jacob launches himself out of bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school snippets, take 1

**Cool**

  
Jake loves his brother more than anything in the world, but sometimes he can’t help resenting how Eliot manages to be cool without trying.

He admits it to Eliot one night walking home from a party, both comfortably drunk off the remains of a 40 they stole from their father. (Jake’s sure there’ll be hell to pay for it later; Eliot figures that Pop was so blackout drunk when they left that he’ll assume he drank it himself as long as they bring the bottle back.)

Eliot frowns as he spins the empty bottle in fingers still nimble despite the alcohol; looks at Jake like he’s being dumb.

“Jacob. _You’re cool too_.”

Jake goes to protest that that’s not what he means, but Eliot’s tongue is whiskey-loose and he’s warming to his subject.

“We have the same friends. We’re both on the football team. Hell, Mandy Connors was all over you tonight, and you know every other guy at that party was jealous. And probably about half the girls, too.”

“But not you,” Jake can’t help pointing out. “Because you’re with Aimee.”

Eliot nods. “Not me,” he agrees. “‘Cause I’m with Aimee.”

They amble on in silence a moment. Jake thinks about how much his brother loves Aimee, how it used to make Jake feel jealous until he got over himself and realized that Eliot has more than enough love in him to share, how Jake doesn’t know if he could ever let a girl get close enough to the real him to love like that anyway. Eliot thinks… Eliot thoughts.

“‘Sides,” Eliot continues in a tone of finality. “You’re my brother. My _twin_ brother. ‘Course you’re cool.”

Jake lets the matter drop — there’s no point arguing with drunk Eliot when his mind’s made up — but it’s not what he meant. Jake knows he passes for cool. He just wishes he didn’t have to work so damn hard at it.

**Hide**

  
Jake keeps Greek texts under his mattress the way other teenage boys keep dirty magazines.

Home Ec is Eliot’s favourite class, and he’d take it every semester if they’d let him.

Their father’s got a flask tucked away in every room in the house.

Maybe it’s just part of being a Stone, always having something to hide.

**Naked**

It’s a stupid hazing tradition. Freshmen who make varsity streak across the cafeteria at lunch before the home opener. It’s dumb, but in a small town, tradition is important. Enough so that the administration looks the other way. Enough so that the school newspaper publishes annual rankings.

Eliot thought he was fine with it. Turns out —

“Man, we’re twins! _Identical_ twins. This is bullshit.”

Jake grins, big and delighted, the smile that earned him the top spot. (That’s not conjecture on Eliot’s part — it literally said that under the photo.)

“What can I say, little brother? First born; first place. It’s the natural order of things.”


	5. Drive

It seems like Eliot’s been spending most of his time at Aimee’s lately, so it’s no real surprise when he drops his bag in his room as soon as they get home from practice and asks Pop if he can borrow the truck. It’s fine — Jake’s got some Ancient Greek he wants to get through, and that’s hard to do with Eliot throwing things at his head when he gets bored.

And Jake gets it, he does. When their mother was alive, she’d make their favourite meal, go all out on the cake. Pop… he’s pretty sure Pop just flat forgot, and there’s nothing to be gained by pointing that out. Aimee probably has something nice planned for Eliot, some surprise. Jake can’t really begrudge Eliot choosing that over sitting at home stewing over the fact that their own damn father couldn’t even get his damn act together long enough to pick up a damn card from the damn drug store.

It’s just… It’s their birthday, dammit. They already exchanged gifts in the morning, before school, but still. It would have been nice to spend the evening with his brother. Go out for burgers or something. Get out of the house and pretend they weren’t both just counting down the days until they turned 18. (366, ‘cause of the leap year.)

But he can’t say any of that with Pop sitting right there in his easy chair. Judging by the bottle next to him, it’s probably for the best if the truck’s not in the garage tonight anyway. So instead Jake smirks at Eliot and says “Have fun,” goes to his room and locks the door.

* * *

It’s coming on midnight when he’s startled by a knock on his window. He looks up and sees Eliot, eyes bright, catching on the full moon that’s lighting up his face.

“Forgot your keys again?” Jake asks when he opens the window, already popping out the screen.

Instead of climbing in, Eliot holds up a key ring and grins, and now Jake’s confused. And okay, maybe a little pissed off.

“Then what the hell are you doing out here banging on my window at god knows what hour of the night? I could’ve been asleep, Eliot.”

Eliot scoffs at that. “Like you could ever put down your book long enough to get to sleep at a decent hour. You coming out or not?”

That’s a fair point, but Eliot doesn’t have to go and _say it_ after skipping out on him on their birthday. Jake is kind of curious, though. Eliot’s fairly vibrating with energy, keyed up in a way that Jake associates more with him spoiling for a fight than whatever keeps tugging that smile up at the corners of Eliot’s mouth.

So he throws on some shoes and a shirt and clambers out into the dark, following his brother around to the front of the house.

Eliot just stops and stands there, and Jake’s blinking in puzzlement at the unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. It’s an older Ford Escort that’s clearly seen better days, but that someone’s just as clearly spent a lot of time getting up and running again. Did Eliot invite someone over? Is that what this is all about?

A thought occurs to Jake, then, a sharp thrill of fear — Eliot better not have messed up the truck, Pop would have their _heads_ — but no, that’s not the energy he’s getting from his brother, and when he glances into the open garage he can see Pop’s truck sitting safe and sound right where it belongs.

“What’s going on?”

Eliot just smiles wider, big like he hasn’t since before their mama got sick, and tosses Jake the keys he’s been fiddling with. Car keys.

“Happy birthday, Jacob.”

And, well, Jake _knows_ words, but that doesn’t mean he’s always _good_ with them. In his surprise they’re all trying to spill out of him at once and getting stopped up, logjammed against his lips in a crashing mess of _How-_ and _What-_ and _When-_ and _But I only got you a knife!_

What finally works its way out is, “It’s not stolen, is it?” because Jake doesn’t _think_ Eliot would do that but they sure as shit both know how, and it’s not like either of them makes great money working for Pop — when he remembers to pay them at all.

Eliot scowls. “No, it’s not _stolen_ , Jakey, why would you even ask that? I bought it cheap and I fixed it up.”

“Where?” is the obvious next question, but Jake’s answering it himself before Eliot can — “At Aimee’s, of course.” That’s why Eliot’s been spending every spare minute over there lately, even more than usual, and Jake retroactively feels like the world’s biggest jerk for how much he’d been failing in his attempts not to be sore about that.

_How_ is simple. They both know cars; Pop made sure of that, at least. Aimee must have driven it over while Eliot took the truck back, or — no, Aimee wasn’t around, so that meant a third person. Probably Aimee’s dad, following behind to take her home. Which is a lot of coordinating just to keep this a secret from Jake.

Eliot’s watching him shrewdly, the way he does when he’s following the web of thoughts Jake’s mapping out in his head. When Jake meets his eyes again, Eliot nods, satisfied that Jake’s got it all figured out.

“Hell of a surprise, El. Thank you,” Jake says, because what else is there to say? His brother bought him a car. Fixed it up for him. In secret. All Jake gave Eliot was a new throwing knife and a pile full of resentment.

Eliot shrugs off the thanks, of course — he never has been any good at accepting it — and smirks. “Anything to get you to actually leave the house sometimes, you shut-in.”

And that’s fine. They’re both more comfortable with jokes. Jake laughs, twirls the keys around his finger.

“Want to go for a drive? Diner’s still open. It’s not cake, but they’ve got pretty good pie.”

They’re both grinning as they swing themselves into the car. Eliot leans over from the passenger seat to muss up Jake’s hair, and Jake growls and bats Eliot’s hand away. It’s easy and comfortable in a way that not many things in their lives are these days.

“It’s your car, but you’ve gotta let me borrow it when I need it,” Eliot says.

“It’s my car,” Jake agrees.

“ _I_ gave it to you.”

“Uh huh. You gave it to _me_.”

“You know I could just take it if I wanted.”

“I thought you didn’t steal cars.”

“I said I didn’t steal _this_ car. Haven’t stolen it. Yet.”

Jake throws his head back and laughs at that, at what’s turned into the best damn day he’s had in awhile, at the feeling of absolute freedom, driving down the road with his brother beside him as the cool night breeze reaches in to ruffle his hair through the rolled-down windows.

“ _Yet._ …Thanks, Eliot.”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Jake.”

“Happy birthday, Eliot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Jake's harder on himself than Eliot would be, but that's the way it goes when you're in your own head. You hear all your own uncharitable thoughts; everyone else just sees your actions.)


End file.
